I was in Junior High School, so it was sometime between 1947 and 1949. I was spending the day with my distant cousins, Dick and Bill Ketterman. They lived on  a farm three or four miles southeast of Augusta, Kansas, where I lived. The south side of their farm butted up against the Little Walnut River on the South Side. They lived with their parents and brother, Ed. Directly across the river was the farm of their grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Pearl Baum. Pearl was my half great, great uncle. I won’t try to explain that. It would make us all dizzy.

The guys suggested we go to the river and gig some frogs. What that actually means is that you are going to spear some frogs. You take a pole, like a broomstick, and attach a barb of some kind to it. The frogs in question are bull frogs. They are big, with bodies that are maybe eight or nine inches long, and hind legs longer than that. The goal is to get some frog legs that you can fry and eat. Yes, I know! Back then, I could spear and eat them, but nowadays, I would just want to make pets of them.

Uncle Pearl and his son, Orvis, kept a rowboat down at the river. We put it in the water and climbed aboard. The bull frogs could be found on the riverbanks, sometimes sitting in the water and sometimes not. The idea was to paddle the boat quietly as close to the bank as you could get, sneaking into spearing range when you spotted a frog. We had gotten a couple of frogs when we came to a tree growing at the water’s edge and with branches hanging down over the water. We were passing under the branches when suddenly a cottonmouth water moccasin dropped from one of the limbs and right into our boat. Wow! We were out of the boat, into the water, and scrambling for the bank like there was no tomorrow. The moccasin, a black, obscene-looking thing slipped over the gunnel and into the water. After we calmed down, we got back in the boat and continued the hunt. We got plenty of frogs, and the guys let me have four for our family.

Mom had never fried frog legs, but she prepared them and got out her big cast -iron frying pan to cook them. I’ve got to mention that me and all my friends had heard the stories about frog legs jumping around in the skillet as you tried to cook them. Sure enough, that’s what happened. I guess the nerves continued to function for some time. I don’t remember, but I suppose they tasted like chicken. That’s what they always say about rattlesnakes, turtles, and other odd meats.

The hunting and eating were two new experiences that I added to my adolescent resume.

Dave Thomas

12/26/2024

I don’t remember exactly when this story took place. It was one of those things that is interesting but insignificant. However, you find that 70 years later, most of the details seem fresh and can be recalled. When this event took place, I was working full time, so it was 1954 or 1955.

I was working at Howard Motors, our local Chevrolet/Buick dealer in Augusta, Kansas. One Monday morning, I had gotten to work early, my usual practice, so I could get a cup of coffee before the day started.  I punched in and got my coffee and saw several of the guys standing around a car as they sipped their morning coffees. I went over and joined them and got a look at the fancy little car they were talking about. They said it was a Volkswagen, a German car, and the first one they had ever seen. I don’t remember the exact comment, but they were saying how strange the car was. “It’s so tiny! The engine is in the rear! Where is the radiator? It looks like a toy beside the Buick Roadmasters!”

We found out that the Volkswagen’s owners had neglected to check the oil, and the engine had burned up. Our Service Manager, Kenneth Markley, had taken the wrecker out and towed the car in. We not only had never seen a Volkswagen, but we had never heard of them either.

Since the car was such a curiosity, it was decided that we should keep it in the garage rather than leaving it outside on the lot. If it was in the way, a couple of us could push it to another spot.

One morning, one of the guys wanted to do a front-end alignment, and the VW was so close you couldn’t use the machine. The VW just needed to be moved laterally three or four feet to make some room. Two of the mechanics were making a big deal of the move and considered it to be a big pain in the butt. Our Service Manager, Kenny, happened to be walking past and overheard the conversation. Kenny, who was a big bear of a man, stepped over to the car, took hold of the bumper, and raised the VW up waist-high. He took a couple of steps sideways and put it down. Then he walked around to the other end, picked up the car, stepped sideways, and put it down. It was all over in a few seconds, and Kenny said, “Is this where you wanted it?” The two mechanics were left standing there looking sheepish and stupid. I learned that if Kenny was ever driving a VW, he would never have a problem with parallel parking.

It took several days to get parts from the East Coast, but eventually, the VW was repaired and on its way.

Dave Thomas

12/19/2024

The summer of 1954, after graduating from high school, I was working at Howard Motors, our Chevrolet/Buick dealer there in Augusta, Kansas.

My Dad, Al Thomas, was a self-employed bricklayer. One morning, he told me that the job he was starting that day would be to apply a brick wainscoting to a home that was being remodeled. He also told me he had hired Virgil to work as a helper for him. A bricklayer’s helper mixes the mortar and keeps a supply of bricks close at hand to the building.

Dad and I both liked Virgil. He was a local farmer, in his late thirties, who was a hard worker with a sense of humor. If there was no work to do tending the crops, Virgil would hire out as a day laborer to pick up a little cash.

The day Dad mentioned the new job and Virgil, I had gone to the 7^th Street Café for lunch. After a bowl of chili, I still would have time to stop by the job site and say hello to Dad and Virgil. I got there and greeted and shook hands with Virgil. I said, “How’s it going, Virgil?” He scratched his head and said, “Well, David, this drought is mighty tough. The well is about to go dry.  The corn is burning up in the field. The cow isn’t giving milk, and the hens aren’t laying. I’m lucky to have something to fall back on.”  “What’s that?” I asked. “My ass,” he replied.

Dave Thomas

12/12/2024

We are a couple of days past Thanksgiving, and it has just occurred to me that I have a turkey story. It doesn’t amount to much, but it’s part of my history so what the heck?

After high school, I worked for a couple of years at Howard Motors, our local Chevrolet and Buick dealership in Augusta, Kansas. My boss was the Service Manager, Kenneth Markley, a heck of a nice guy. I believe it was in the summer of 1954 that Kenny came up to me and asked if I would like to make a weekend trip to Minnesota and back. Kenny’s wife was from there, and she and their two kids had spent a few weeks up there during the summer. Kenny was going up to get them and wanted someone to help with the driving. I said “yes” immediately. We left work at 6:00 P.M. and went home to clean up. Kenny picked me up about 7:00, and off we went.

Kenny drove the first few hours and then turned it over to me while he slept. I had never driven much after dark and certainly had never gone very far. It was a new experience for me, and I enjoyed every minute of it. The Interstate Highway System hadn’t been built yet, so we were driving on the U.S. highways, all two-lane roads.

Kenny’s car was a 1953 Chevrolet, Model 210 with a 6-cylinder engine and standard transmission. Kenny had only had it for a few months, and it still smelled like a new car.

We drove all night and some time, after dawn, Kenny told me we were getting close to our destination. We soon came to the official sign. It read “Brewster, Minnesota” in big letters. Below it and a little smaller, it said “Turkey Capitol of the World.” My gosh! If I had known we were going to such an important place, I would have dressed up a little instead of wearing jeans and cowboy boots.

We ate breakfast and visited with the family and then slept a few hours. I then walked to the downtown area and found a store that was open. I remember it as a general store, but it had a pool table in the back. I drank a Coke and shot a game of pool with myself. The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting with the family. We spent the night and returned home the next day. It was a great experience for me, and I was especially glad to learn where turkeys come from.

Dave Thomas

12/5/2024